Page 53 of Freeing Denver
“Brightness,” he mumbles into my neck.
I untangle myself from his arms and grab my phone, blinking through my sleepiness. Axel has texted me.
AXEL: Dad just called. He doesn’t sound like himself. I think something is wrong.
AXEL: He’s been drinking, I think … Denver, I don’t know what to do?
AXEL: He’s at this address. I’m going to him.
I sit up, examining the address he’s sent me. It’s a building on the outskirts of the city.
“What’s wrong?” Colt asks huskily.
“Axel has gone to find his dad. He thinks something is wrong …” My gut twists. This could be Ranger trying to take Axel away from me, or a way to guilt Axel into going back to San Francisco. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
Colt sits up and kisses my shoulder. “Then let’s go find them.”
Colt sends a text to Taf and asks him to follow us to the address. It’s a short drive, the streets relatively quiet because of the snow that’s been falling in heavy drifts since the afternoon. We find a space to park and walk the rest of the way, coming to an unopened office building.
“Why would they be here?” Colt asks, lacing his fingers through mine.
My phone buzzes and I check it.
AXEL: We’re on the third floor. He’s a mess, Denver. I can’t get him to calm down. What do I do?
I call him, shivering against the bitter wind that wraps around us. The phone rings. Once. Twice. Three times. Four …
He answers, but the line is silent.
“Axel?”
The call disconnects.
Fear bolts through me. I go to the glass doors of the building and push—they’re unlocked, and Colt stays close as we step inside. Taf is behind us, gun out and at his side, his usual light-hearted nature overshadowed by the heavy feeling of …wrongness. The large, marble lobby is eerily quiet, a dim, green exit light illuminating the space as we take tentative steps forward.
“We should wait,” Colt says. “This could be?—”
A door bangs open ahead of us and we both draw our guns. Ranger steps out of the hall and pauses. A frown pinches his brows together.
“Where’s Axel?” he asks.
“Nice try,” Colt says. “What was the plan, Ranger? Get us here to kill us?”
Ranger shifts a murderous look at Colt. “Yes, because I like my odds when there are three guns pointed at me,” he says drily, then looks at me. “Axel texted me. He said you wanted to talkabout coming home.” Something softens his features—concern. “He isn’t with you?”
I’ve been around Ranger for close to a decade. He’s lied to me for most of it, about the most abhorrent things, but I can’t decide if this is an act or not. I keep my gun trained on him. “Show me your phone.”
He lets out an impatient exhale, taking his phone out of his suit jacket pocket before crouching and sliding it across the floor to me.
I open his messages, scanning them.
AXEL: Dad, I think Denver is coming to her senses. Can you meet us? She wants to go somewhere Colt won’t know.
Below is the same link to the address Axel sent to me, the time stamp the same as when he texted me.
This could be an act, but … how would Ranger have Axel’s phone to do this? I check previous messages to make sure it isn’t another number saved under Axel’s name, but there are plenty of back and forths, starting with when Axel returned from Australia.
Which means someone else has it.
